


Bite of the Bullet

by Pretty_Princess_Sheep



Category: BioShock
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Games, Shooting Guns, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretty_Princess_Sheep/pseuds/Pretty_Princess_Sheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Would you Kindly"<br/>Those words were always so useful for Atlas, and when Jack needs medical attention they never seemed so perfect. Contains Bioshock spoilers, explicit sexual situation and noncon/dubcon themes. Just a simple one-shot of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite of the Bullet

With one wrong step Jack was caught in the red dull glow of a surveillance camera. There was the two second lapse of time where escape was still possible if he were to run out of sight or zap the damned camera with an electricity bolt. Jack was a bit woozy from exhaustion after going a straight forty hours without sleep. It wasn’t as if there was anywhere safe to sleep in this fallen city anyways. 

Electricity flowed through his left hand, a process by now that is nearly as simple as breathing at this point. Jack looked up and aimed, at least tried to aim as the image of the camera split into three blurred images of the same object. A bolt of energy is released from the base of his palm but the ticking continues, closely followed by the shrill scream of an alarm. 

Jack clapped his hands over his ears as he runs to try and find safety from the flying turrets that are sure to be there any second. As he runs into an abandoned storage room the familiar sound of the flying machines passed by, searching the larger rooms rather than the one he has himself tucked into. With a sigh of relief Jack sank down under a filthy desk. 

His legs trembled bellow him and every inch of him ached, no doubt he’s most likely bathed in bruises at this point. Jack dug through his bag and pulled out his dented radio. After an earlier encounter with a Houdini Splicer and a hard smack that shifted the dials of his radio, he learned that it picked up other signals than just the ones from other people. Jack turned the dials carefully, making sure to keep the volume low as static was tuned into the soft sounds of jazz. 

Jack didn’t have a memory of any of these songs, but they were soothing and for once he felt able to relax. The muscles in his back slumped into the side of the desk and with the radio perched in his lap Jack drifted off into some much needed sleep.

Although he had been careful to tuck himself away and keep the volume of his radio as low as possible he had not been clever enough to barricade the door. After only  four hours to himself the door automatically slid open as a Thuggish Splicer searched for supplies. It snuck around to the back of the room and when its eyes met with Jack’s form there was a animal-like shriek, and was the only warning Jack got before getting shot at, granted, the Splicer’s aim was subpar. 

With a few seconds to think Jack fumbled for the pistol in his bag and delivered as many rounds as was left in the gun, but not before a stray bullet clipped him in the shoulder. Blinding heat pooled in his shoulder and Jack clasped hard to the location of injury. There had been countless close calls with the Splicer’s before, but he had never actually taken a bullet. 

During the shuffle of the battle the radio had been pushed aside and the frequency was back to that of anyone that might wish to contact him. One particular voice was now audible from the speakers. 

“Hello? Hello are you there? Can you hear me? Hello” there was the concerned voice of the only person that Jack had come to trust. He leaned over and reached for the radio after he was sure the Splicer was dead and let out a grunt in response, followed by a hiss as the shifting caused the injury in his shoulder to sting with more pain.

“Oh thank God you’re alive. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for the past three hours,” Atlas’ tone seemed clearly relieved. A small smile quirked around Jack’s lips, something about hearing that Irish accent was soothing, like that of a parent’s. 

“What seems to be the problem? Last I’ve looked the floor is still crawling with little sisters and you still haven’t made it to Hephaestus,” his voice had the faintest hint of annoyance. A drive in Jack’s body made him want to continue on and shakily he stood up. Standing only made things worse and he felt dizzy as he stepped outside of the storage room. 

“Is something the matter? Did you go get yourself hurt boyo?” Atlas asked. Jack didn’t respond, doing his best to move forward on limbs that were just as useful as jelly at this point. A few more steps and he stumbled forward onto the ground. 

“Would you kindly make your way to a vending machine or healing station before you pass out?” Atlas asked. Jack huffed out in a bit of annoyance, it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that he needed a medical kit. The only problem was nothing in the kit particularly aided with a bullet wound. 

Jack managed to stand once again and his feet took him in the direction of the last vending machine he remembered seeing. Each step only caused more burning in his shoulder and the blood loss started to get to his head. Without properly thinking Jack stepped out in front of the same security camera as before. 

Unknown to Jack, Atlas had stationed himself in the surveillance room where live feeds from the cameras were sent directly to him. Watching Jack head obediently to his next destination every few minutes was usually a reassurance that things were running smoothly, but even through the grainy quality of the television screen he could tell that Jack had more than just a few scrapes.

Atlas watched as the alarm sounded from the camera and Jack feebly sent sparks towards it. Two flying turrets surrounded him and Jack swung his wrench pathetically, giving the machines a few dents here and there. He finally managed to break the machines, but only after taking a second and third bullet. 

Atlas grit his teeth as he watched his creation fall to the ground and remain in that spot, face down on the tile bellow. After waiting a few minutes Jack wasn’t moving, the security camera was no longer seeing him as a threat and didn’t set off any alarms even as it passed over his body. 

“Would you kindly get up,” Atlas said over the radio, trying to keep as calm as possible. Jack’s body was completely unresponsive to the direct order.

“I said... Would you kindly get your ass off the ground,” he said, his voice shaking as he clung to the microphone and watched the monitors. Once again there was zero movement on Jack’s behalf. Atlas started to breath harder, this wasn’t supposed to happen, Jack was a warrior, he was made to live past this sort of thing. 

“Jack fucking get up!” he yelled, panic thick in his voice which had started to slip out of the Irish accent he had adopted. It was clear that Jack wasn’t going to be responding to anything, regardless of how it was asked. Atlas slumped back into his chair and he grasped his forehead tightly. What was he supposed to do now? If the brat died then his entire plan was ruined, years worth of planning down the fucking drain.

He looked up and on the same floor as Jack, a camera featured a lumbering Big Daddy, accompanied by a Little Sister. Atlas froze, they were only a hundred yards or so from where Jack lied, possibly dead. His heart raced as he watched the pair leave the field of the camera and enter another before finally meeting up with where Jack was. 

The Little Sister approached Jack, investigating him closely and nudged him with her bare foot. Atlas watched in frozen terror, waiting for the second when she plunged that needle of hers into his stomach and it was all over. He waited for what seemed a century and then without another word the Little Sister was leaving, followed by her giant protector. 

Atlas just stared at the camera, not sure what was going on until he realized that this meant Jack wasn’t dead... He wasn’t dead! The good news didn’t keep him calm for long though, because it was clear that even if Jack wasn’t dead yet, he would be soon if he was left alone out there for much longer. With some calculation of where Jack was located, Atlas headed off to pick him up and deliver some much needed medical care. 

After carefully retrieving Jack’s body and dragging him to the closet (and safest) medical ward he could find Atlas was relieved to find that Jack’s injuries weren’t as severe as he had assumed. The bullets hadn’t penetrated any organs, major arteries or veins. At this point Atlas assumed that it was primarily exhaustion that had caused Jack’s body to give up. Not wanting to sit around in a place that stunk of bleach and sickness for much longer, Atlas resolved to taking Jack to his own private hide away until he had gotten some more sleep, then it was back to killing Andrew Ryan and getting the key to Rapture. 

It was almost twelve hours later when Jack awoke to a dimly lit room, the only illumination coming from the glow of adam that ran through his own body. His eyebrows knitted in confusion as he looked around, not remembering making his way here. The last thing he could recall was the fight with the turrets. Recollection of his injuries sprung up and Jack went to touch where a bullet wound was. To his surprise there was nothing more than a scar now, as if the injury was years in the past rather than 24 hours previous. 

The door to the room he was in slid open and the outline of a figure stood there. Jack’s first reaction was that another Splicer had found him and he searched for a weapon, any weapon, but his bag of supplies was no where to be found. There was a pleasant chuckle from the figure as they fully entered the room and the door slid shut.

“Calm down there, it’s just me. I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack. Would you kindly relax before you pass out again?” he laughed gently. Jack felt as if the fear inside him was swept aside and he smiled as he realized who he was finally meeting. 

“It’s great to finally meet you, wish it hadn’t been because of you almost dying and all,” Atlas said and Jack could feel the bed shift as another weight was added to it. Jack wanted to ask where he was and what had happened.

“You were in a close scrape back there, but don’t worry now. You’re as good as new. I patched you up myself, think I did a pretty good job if I say so,” Atlas said, running a finger along Jack’s shoulder and over the small purple scar. Jack shivered slightly and felt cold from the touch. 

Atlas grin grew and he didn’t draw his hand away from Jack, tracing his fingers down across a well built set of pectoral muscles and an equally toned stomach that were well defined even through the barrier of clothing. Ever since Jack had found his way back down to Rapture again Atlas had been amazed by just how wonderfully those three words worked. Being alone and avoiding the eyes of Andrew Ryan for years had left him missing the feeling of another human being. He wasn’t sure if it was the desire for human contact or the thrill of being able to control another human, but the words came out so easily.

“Would you kindly come here and give daddy a kiss.” Confusion swept over Jack at the strange request, but a desire to do so filled his belly. Jack shifted and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Atlas’, who grinned in response. Another soft chuckle broke the silence as Atlas’ eyes roamed over the faintly glowing skin of Jack’s body.

“Ya know boyo, I did a lot to save your skin back there. The least you could do is do a small favor for me. I betcha wouldn’t be opposed to that would ya?” he asked, delighting in the fact that a small accent could make him a completely different person. In the dark he could continue to be Atlas, “Hero of the People” and Jack would be none the wiser. Jack didn’t know what Atlas was trying to get at, already so confused by the physical interaction between the two of them, Atlas had a wife and child after all. 

“Now, if it wouldn’t trouble you, would you kindly suck my cock,” Atlas said, the words came out almost too quickly, perhaps a bit too eager. Jack had merely seconds to process the order before his fingers were working at the leather belt and silk pants that separated him from his goal. Atlas leaned back against the footboard of his bed and watched smugly as Jack undressed him without question, not that the kid could do any of that. Soon Atlas’ dick had been tugged free from his briefs and Jack’s mouth fit around the head.

“Oh! That’s right, make sure to be careful of your teeth while you’re at it,” Atlas commented with a slight gasp. It didn’t take long for unskilled movements of Jack’s lips and tongue to make Atlas hard in his mouth and he could hear the small gasps and choking noises from Jack as he tried to take in the new thickness and length. 

Atlas smirked and without giving Jack any warning he bucked up into his throat, groaning as Jack tightened around him as he gagged. Atlas’ hands quickly made their way to Jack’s hair to hold on tightly and force his mouth further down. He tugged Jack down far enough that his nose rested in the patch of pubic hair above Atlas’ cock. Pained tears pooled up in Jack’s eyes as he looked up at Atlas, begging for him to let go.

“Don’t look at me like that, for everything I’ve done for you I deserve this. Would you kindly hold still until I cum?” he asked, knowing that Jack couldn’t object. His head stayed pressed closely to Atlas’ body as he waited. He pulled back a few inches before rolling his hips back up for Jack’s lips to meet with the base of his cock again. There was such a delicious tightness as he drove himself further into Jack’s aching throat.  

“Ah yes, yes fuck,” Atlas moaned as he thrust up repeatedly, his gut burning with pleasure as he was surrounded by wonderful heat. It had been so long, too damn long since he had his dick in anything but his own fist. There was the strong desire to draw things out, make it last longer, but before he had the chance to make up his mind he was already cumming hard down Jack’s throat. 

Atlas came harder than he had in months, possibly years, and he continued to buck wildly until his body had calmed down and he settled back into his bed. Jack gasped as he was finally released and he clutched onto his aching throat, feeling hurt and almost betrayed, both by Atlas and his own body. How could he do something like that? Atlas could see the distrust in Jack’s eyes and he rolled his own.

“Come on now boyo, a man has his needs...” he said, but Jack’s expression didn’t change. Atlas sat up and readjusted his clothing. Now that his needs were out of the way he had a city to conquer. “Would you kindly find your way back to Hephaestus and forget this ever happened?” he said with a yawn. Atlas watched as Jack left the room and when he was sure that he had left the apartment entirely he made his way back the surveillance room. Soon enough Jack’s image was back on the screens, following the orders he had been given and his face no longer showed the hurt confusion from just minutes before. Now that things were back on track Atlas could relax. 

Jack carefully passed by the turrets he had destroyed earlier and he was trying to recall how he had ended up so far away from them when his radio cracked with an incoming message. He pulled the radio from his pocket to hear Atlas’ voice.

“Would you kindly be more careful of gunfire this time? Almost got yourself killed there.”


End file.
